


be still, my beating heart; hold my hand, take me home

by xxELF21xx



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Red & Green & Blue & Yellow | Pokemon Red Green Blue Yellow Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Mute Red (Pokemon), Timeline What Timeline, happens after hgss but before bw/b2w2, red but hes a drama king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: He can’t speak, yet the words are emblazoned on his skin:I love you.
Relationships: Ookido Green | Blue Oak/Red
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	be still, my beating heart; hold my hand, take me home

**Author's Note:**

> the title is longer than this whole fic :" )

Theoretically speaking, he shouldn’t exist. An anomaly, a paradox, a mistake in the universe. He couldn’t speak -- couldn’t make more than a huff or a grunt, or a raspy scream on better days -- yet here he was, thin slants burning themselves hotly into the underside of his wrist, heart pounding to the tune of madness. 

He couldn’t speak, yet the evidence laid bare on his skin spoke volumes for him:  _ I love you.  _

A loud bang on the bathroom door startles him poorly, head bumping against the wall with a  _ clack.  _ He might have broken something. It was probably his very existence breaking. His mother is there, hands cupping his face worriedly with delicate brown eyes tracing the lines of his figure. 

‘You’ve been showering for almost a half-hour, Red,’ the tones of her voice mould concern, ‘are you alright?’ 

Numbly, he shakes his head; no. He turns his arm around, nearly shoving it in her face. The water is turned off, pressure gone from his back.  _ I shouldn’t have these.  _ He implores her for an answer, seeking the adult who was only a decade older than he. 

She stares, rubbing his skin raw, disbelief colouring her face pale but elated. ‘Oh,  _ Red,’  _ she says, ruffling up his wet, clumped hair, ‘your soulmate isn’t defined by your ability to speak.’ It doesn’t soothe him one bit; because he’s  _ mute.  _ He  _ can’t  _ talk. ‘Soulmates reveal themselves to those who yearn,’ his mother continues, helping him get dressed even though he’s already twenty, ‘it looks like Arceus has heard you loud and long enough.’

_ But he can’t talk.  _ How was he supposed to find his soulmate when he  **_can’t talk?_ **

His mother tells him to stop being dramatic and join her for dinner. ‘The world continues to spin, and you’ll find your answer in due time.’ 

He keeps staring at the mark on his skin, the burn increasing twice fold -- thrice, four times, five -- until every inch of him is breathing hot and aching for the phantom touches and companionship of someone who would never know it’s him,  _ always him.  _

Some part of him wants to know which insufferable fool would take him,  _ Red,  _ as their soulmate. He draws blanks at every corner and turn. He gives up after the fiftieth thought, withdrawing into the depths of silence, where everything is filled with battles and how he’d avoid talking to Green who lives next door. 

The thought of Green envelopes in freezing water, fear locking him in place. What will Green say about his return, the mark on his skin? 

_ You’ll always be better than me;  _ bitter, cruel admission. Hate. 

It’s neither of the above, he realises, shirt damp from tears and swallowed accusations of loneliness. 

He holds Green’s hands in his, the warmth giddying him intensely, and forgets all about the burns and words. There’s only Green in his thoughts, his space, and he wonders if Green is the reason he’s this way: contemplative and silent. 

Green doesn’t talk for a long time, which is both worrying but alright, and when he does, it’s with a beautiful smile he’s yearned for atop the isolated peaks and harsh snowfalls. ‘Welcome home.’

It’s simple enough for Red to think:  _ I love you.  _

And maybe it’s not  _ Red  _ who’s yearned, Arceus is not as kind as some legends say. It’s Green, always  _ Green,  _ who’s wished so fervently and yearned for years alone in a Gym where evil once took root, and Arceus listened. 

Green’s words etched in his wrist, his warmth right next to Red, felt right. 

_ I love you,  _ he traces into Green’s skin, watching amber eyes soften. 

‘I know,’ it’s soft, the start of spring and its storms. ‘I love you.’ 

He can’t speak, but that’s okay; Green knew all his words by heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> red shouldn't be that old before bw/b2w2 but it be like that


End file.
